


Pranks and Recreation

by bigstupidjellyfish



Series: Crimes Against Creation [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: (I guess?) - Freeform, Heavy Petting, M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, improper use of space shuttles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstupidjellyfish/pseuds/bigstupidjellyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody deals with existence of the Rod Pod the best they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pranks and Recreation

Getaway was outraged when he learned that the most atrocious shuttle in the whole history of their race was rebuilt.

The original Rod Pod offended him deeply as it was, making his respect bar for the captain drop even lower than expected. The monument to Rodimus' enormous self-esteem could be easily and happily forgotten after its destruction, but hardly anything was easy on this quest. The shuttle was rebuilt. The actual people worked to make the second Rod Pod exist. Getaway couldn't just let it be.

"The captain's chair is actually pretty comfy," he said and stretched his legs on the control panel.

Behind him, Skids sighed deeply.

When Getaway invited him to the shuttle bay, promising an exciting date, all laughs and shining optics, breaking into Rodimus' personal ship wasn't something Skids honestly expected. Now, he was thinking: what else could he possibly expect?

He would be lying if he said the Rod Pod didn't bother him at all, things like that _exist_ to bother, but Skids was wary of what Getaway could possibly plan to do with it. His partner didn't seem to be prone to something as inelegant as vandalism, but he wasn't sure.

Skids stepped closer to the chair, placing elbows on its back. Getaway looked up at him.

"I'm still dying to hear what we are gonna do here," Skids said, flashing a grin.

Getaway's optics flickered with coy smile in response:

"I planned a simple recon mission, but I'm open for ideas, partner."

"Recon mission?"

"Oh, nothing big. Learn the layout, what we can do and for how long we can get away with what we can do before someone notices," Getaway vaguely replied, waving hands.

Skids cocked his head in disbelief. Getaway looked at him with honest optics.

"Nuh-uh," Skids shook his head.

"Aw, come on," Getaway exclaimed and, after receiving another skeptical look, burst into giggling. "Remember that time you told about Mags catching nanocons and that you were fighting the infection inside him?"

Skids nodded, but then he remembered what _else_ he had said, and said:

"No!" He pointed his finger at his partner. "Getaway, no," he repeated.

Getaway raised his optic ridge.

"I'm not saying I wanna leave a graffiti in the Rod Pod."

It was Skids' turn to raise optic ridges.

"Okay, maybe I do. Maybe you want, too," Getaway continued. "But I'd rather come up with something better, because copying _Whirl_ is immature."

Skids couldn't raise the ridges more, so he just let out a laugh of disbelief. A small, defeated laugh. The idea of writing something mocking on the polished shuttle plates seemed appealing, unfortunately.

"I don't think it's gonna go unnoticed," he pointed out.

Getaway nodded, agreeing.

"That's why I said I'm open to ideas, partner. And don't try to convince me you're above that," he waved his finger at Skids, looking up at him once more. "Swerve gladly told about what you wrote on this ship with pneumatic hammer when you were on rivet duty and why you were on the rivet duty in the first place."

Skids felt his faceplates heat in embarrassment under Getaway's gaze.

"I'll need to talk to Swerve," he scoffed.

He looked around the captain's cabin, thinking about their options. He noticed that the control panel had some cravings on it already, the style of them screaming of Rodimus. They couldn't do worse than that, could they?

Besides, the urge to _do something_ with the Rod Pod was fairly understandable. Skids just got used too much to it before Getaway came abroad, fresh to the Lost Light shenanigans.

Skids' gaze came back to the massive chair Getaway was sprawled on.

The chair looked really, really comfy, he thought. Getaway, half-lying there, looked very, very pretty.

Skids grinned and walked around the seating. Getaway looked with curiosity at his partner standing before him with a wicked smile. Skids leaned to him, placing his hands on both handles, and kissed Getaway's faceplate.

"I take my words back. Copying Whirl isn't immature. _This_ is," Getaway said, craning his neck and giving Skids better access as he continued kissing his mask.

Skids scoffed and straddled Getaway's hips. The chair didn't even creak once.

"I was led there with promises of a date with you," he retorted, moving down to nibble neck cables and stroking his partner's sides.

"Oh, so you're just getting what you were promised," Getaway said, voice mocking and shaking a little at the same time. His fingers ran down Skids' slim hips, the heat from his partner's frame making his fans spin faster.

Skids hummed with his mouth against Getaway's collar, grinning as he felt light tremors under his lips.

"I'm killing two birds with one stone, actually."

"You're killing what?"

"Ah, alien expression. It means we're getting everything done in one go," Skids leaned back a little to explain. Getaway appreciated this move, getting to take a good look of Skids sitting atop of him, the sight of his bulky, top heavy frame making Getaway want to grab and stroke every plate, maybe tickle the seams on his sides, too. Skids was ticklish and always squirmed with laughter and adorable outrage.

Getaway snapped out of his gazing as Skids continued:

"We get to do atrocious things to the Rod Pod _and_ make out in this comfy captain's chair," he patted one of the handles. "Maybe in the recharge room, too. And the lower deck looks fun. And we can get away with this. Many, many times," Skids finished, closing the distance between them again, optics lit with devious grin, bright and shameless.

He cupped Getaway's face in both hands and kissed the smooth faceplate again, grinding his hips on Getaway's.

"I love this," Getaway groaned in response. His hands somehow ended on Skids' back already, and he moved one up, to rub one small sensitive place between the doors, and the second one down, encouraging Skids to thrust his hips harder against him.

He felt Skids' grin on his faceplate followed with rush of hot air as he gasped when Getaway let his fingers dance on tender mesh on the inside of Skids' thigh. Tracing a finger on the outline of Skids' covers got him a whine, quiet and soft. He couldn't resist running his other hand on Skids' side, tickling him between the plates.

Skids shook with laughter and squirmed in his lap.

"S-stop it," he giggled.

Getaway didn't listen, his touches becoming only a tiny bit lighter, and Skids shook again, trying to get away from tickling. He ended up grinding on the hand between his thighs harder, feeling Getaway's agile fingers gently prying into the seams between the interface array covers. Light pressure on the shut plates spiced up the sensation of Getaway's thumb rubbing his inner parts, making Skids gasp again.

Watching Skids lull his head to the side, Getaway dropped the teasing and moved his other hand onto Skids' bumper, caressing the plates and moldings before circling his fingers around the headlight. Skids' intakes hitched, and he leaned in closer, pressing himself into Getaway's hands.

He didn't let Getaway gawk at him losing his head for too long, feeling the need to reciprocate somehow as his arousal burned brighter with each second, with each touch. He brushed his tongue against Getaway's faceplate in short licks, moaning in between as his partner's hands moved between his legs and on his chest, fingertips flicking over all sensitive nodes in familiar manner.

At some point, Getaway turned his head to the side causing Skids to smash his lips on the helm. Confused, Skids tried to kiss his mask again, but his mouth met Getaway's chin as he turned his head up.

Alarmed by this odd behavior, Skids leaned back and stared at Getaway who refused to meet his optics.

"Something's... wrong?" Skids asked.

Still looking somewhere past him, Getaway blinked a few times and fidgeted under him.

"Getaway?"

He looked awkward when he turned to him, and Skids thought he didn't like that look very much.

"Do you, uh," Getaway started, voice small and nervous. He brought his hand up to Skids face and touched his lips. Automatically, Skids started kissing his fingertips, quietly waiting for him to continue. "Do you ever regret we can't actually kiss?" Getaway finally whispered, watching Skids pressing lips against his palm with unreadable expression.

Surprised to hear that, Skids just looked at him, mouth still on Getaway's hand.

"I mean, with mouth and lip plates and tongue and-" Getaway went into explanation and stopped, seeing that Skids' disbelieving expression didn't change.

They stared at each other in silence, only small cracking sounds of Skids' plates cooling down filling the cabin.

"No," Skids said. "No," he repeated and pointed his finger at Getaway, "And no. Did I make my point?"

Looking at the accusing finger with crossed optics, Getaway said:

"Yes, but-"

"No "buts"-"

"But!" Getaway remembered that he, too, could point fingers at people. Skids shut his mouth, listening. "It just- It looks so fun. And it feels great, probably. Your mouth does. Don't you miss that?"

Skids stared at him helplessly. He felt nervous and frankly was a little afraid of Getaway's rare moments of insecurity, his processors unable to comprehend that there could be anything for Getaway to be insecure about. He considered how he should deal with this, absolutely resenting the idea of leaving Getaway convinced that he wasn't good enough for him.

Maybe, just a little, Skids missed making out. But the feeling never appeared in his head when they were busy with each other as everything else was delightful: Getaway's hands on his plates or Skids' lips on his body, hot ex-vents from Getaway's face in the crook of his neck or Getaway's spike in his valve, or, or, or. There was too much to process and calculate that something was missing.

Or maybe there wasn't anything missing at all?

"Why are you grinning?" Getaway asked, face still sour.

Skids smiled wider at his sudden thought.

"Dunno where you got the idea we can't make out," he said.

Getaway raised his optic ridge. Then he tapped his faceplate with his finger. Skids giggled and kissed it, making Getaway scoff in frustration.

"Skids," he said, putting a lot in one word.

"Nuh-uh."

Skids quickly moved lower, pecking the chestplates, and slid off the chair in one motion. He continued kissing Getaway's plates lower and lower until he sat on his knees on the floor before his partner, hands on his thighs and optics piercing his. Getaway looked torn. And very beautiful from this point, Skids thought and put his lips against the interface panels.

Getaway relaxed under Skids' lips and tongue caressing his plates, letting him spread his thighs wider as he mouthed the obscenely white middle panel. He felt a little bad for revving Skids up before and making him focus on him now, but it didn't seem like Skids minded.

If Skids minded anything, it was a purely anatomical detail: the plate covering Getaway's interface array was solid and retracted as the whole piece, and he couldn't do the trick with slightly pushing covers apart like Getaway did with him not so long ago. He licked a wide, long stripe on the panel and looked up at his partner with bright optics. He'd have to ask him to open up.

"Come on, Getaway, don't be shy," Skids whispered against his plate.

Getaway whimpered, and his covers brushed Skids' lips, retracting.

His hands gripped the chair handles hard as Getaway watched Skids kiss him between legs. His mouth touched the tender valve opening, closed, pretendingly shy; then his lips parted and nibbled the valve lips, not unlike the way Getaway saw the other people, people with functioning mouths, doing this when they wanted to make things a little too intimate in public.

And it looked intimate, too intimate for just two of them, forget about the public, with the way Skids pressed his face closer, lips sliding between the valve lips (was the correct term "labia", maybe? Getaway couldn't be bothered to remember) and brushing the outer sensory clusters. The stimulation was occasional, following the imitation of kissing that Skids was performing between Getaway's thighs, no technique or intention to make him overload. This could leave Getaway unsatisfied and frustrated, craving for real stimuli, but it didn't. He felt his valve getting wet on its own, leaving shining smears of lubricant on Skids' mouth. When he felt the slightly ridged texture of Skids' tongue sliding on the valve rim, past the lips, he moaned, loud and harsh.

Skids shot him a look, knowing very well that he wasn't doing his best, _yet_ , and smiled, unsure if Getaway would feel that. It was pleasing to know that Getaway was definitely enjoying this act, he knew that from the way his thighs trembled under his hands, the way Getaway's fans worked way faster and his moans were way louder than Skids estimated they would be if he did the same with his fingers. He tugged Getaway closer by his thighs, his tongue diving deeper into him, the taste of Getaway's lubricant making him moan into the valve.

Getaway couldn't tear away his optics from Skids, helpless before him, letting him kiss his valve sloppily, spreading his lubricant all around the array, and then lick it all clean. He missed the moment when Skids' tugging moved him out of chair, thighs spread wide apart and resting on Skids' shoulders now and his lower part of corpus lying on the massive chest plates quite comfortably. Writhing on Skids' mouth, he gripped the handles once again.

"Stop," came from his vox coder, small and distorted.

Skids immediately slowed down, alarmed by the plea.

While he was trying to figure out whether he did something wrong as fast as his processors allowed, tremor surged through Getaway's body as he let out a long, low moan.

"Stop," he repeated, breath heavy and hitching, "looking like this is the best goddamn thing to ever happen to you."

Instead, Skids stopped his thinking and looked into Getaway's optics. The acute arousal he felt from being where he was, sitting before Getaway on his knees, face between his legs, his own valve dripping behind the shut covers, piqued and made his engines growl. Not even trying to say something, he licked him between the valve lips, the tip of the tongue circling around the major sensory node between them above the opening.

"Skids," Getaway breathed.

He reached Getaway's hand, prying it away from the chair handle and gripping his palm hard. Listening to his moans closely, voice uneven and shaking, Skids started forming words on Getaway's palm in hand language.

"This _is_ the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me," he said, knowing the exact moment when his partner realized that he was talking to him by the abrupt stopping of the low whine followed by a sharp intake of air.

" _Skids_ ," Getaway repeated, not trusting his vox coder to produce anything else.

"Glad you're enjoying this, too," Skids managed to scratch against his hand through his grip. He looked up at him once again, playing dirty, sliding his tongue in, over the folds inside him, and nibbling the valve lips as he slid his tongue out.

Getaway threw his head back, involuntarily pressing his thighs together and locking Skids' head between them. In response, Skids just moaned happily and licked him deeper, making him shiver to the innermost parts of his body and thrust himself higher, closer to Skids' face.

"Love you," Getaway choked on a moan.

Skids took his hand from Getaway's, putting both of them on his thighs to support him and deciding to let his tongue speak for him. He heard that Getaway, all moans and breathy laughter, didn't mind it in the least.

Getaway felt incredible. His processors overclocked, unable to deal with the sense flooding him, be it the feeling of Skids' firm grip on his legs, intensifying with every twitch from his body and holding his valve pressed close to Skids' mouth, or his tongue swirling and dancing on the most intimate parts of his valve. He felt the walls of his valve spiral in spasm, around Skids' tongue and higher, around agonizing nothing, and cried out. Skids' thumbs brushed his thighs, his quiet confirmation that it was okay, but his mouth never let him uncoil, tongue twitching and brushing against the taut walls, bringing him higher. The overload blinded him, narrowing his mind down to the feeling of Skids before him, inside him, never letting him go no matter how hard his release made Getaway arch his body, tasting him until Getaway, all ragged breath and whines, started pushing his head away, too sensitive, almost vulnerable.

It took him solid ten minutes to come down to his senses. Skids, busying himself with kissing his shaking thighs, felt prideful for what he was capable of.

Soon, Getaway stopped pushing him away, tracing his hand on Skids' helm instead. He noticed black scratches on blue plates and shivered. When he finally felt confident in his vox coder not glitching up words, he said:

"This making out thing is pretty intense."

"Mhm," Skids agreed, his faced turned to Getaway's hand already to kiss it. He looked horribly pleased with himself, and Getaway couldn't help but find it endearing.

"I... think I left some dents on the chair."

"Well," Skids mused. "Damn," he concluded. Getaway laughed at that, but soon stopped with a hitch in intakes when Skids kissed his sweet valve once more.

Just when Getaway thought that he'd need some decent comeback to do something to Skids, something equally wonderful, a warning signal came through a tracking device he built himself.

"Someone's in the shuttle bay," he explained, whispering, to Skids' questioning look. Both stilled in place as Getaway took the device out and activated the display. It was rigged to one of the bay security cameras.

"Magnus _and_ Rodimus," Skids whistled.

 "We didn't set any alarms off," Getaway looked at the silent picture, puzzled. He found it a little bizarre as he was still half-lying on Skids' chestplates with legs spread. "Maybe it's the smoke from all the hot interface?"

Skids snorted.

The captain (seemingly excited) and his second in command (clearly exasperated) stopped before the blighted shuttle the spies were in. Getaway and Skids looked at each other for a second, deciding what to do, and both turned back to the display, curious about what brought the commanding officers there.

Rodimus was talking about something, gesturing towards the Rod Pod's various parts. Ultra Magnus shook his head at every word and pinched his nose bridge at every gesture. Skids, watching their mouths at the tiny resolution, wondered:

"Looks like they're discussing some... additions to the Rod Pod?"

"You mean, Rodimus is the one discussing, and Magnus is the one furiously disagreeing?" Getaway corrected him.

"That's what I said."

Shortly after, the patience of the former enforcer of the Tyrest Accord seemed to end. Ultra Magnus, shaking his head harder and, Primus save their sparks, pointing finger at his captain, said something short and clear and walked out of the shuttle bay. Rodimus stood in his place for several seconds and ran after him.

The spies watched that in silence, relieved.

"I have a truly atrocious idea that may make the Rod Pod seem not so bad," Getaway suddenly said.

Skids, leaning his head onto his thigh, looked at him with bright optics.

"Shoot."

"It is horrible."

"I've caught that."

"It's about giving Megatron an idea about building the shuttle shaped after his head."

Silence.

"It is horrible."

"I told you."

"I may be disappointed in you."

"Not until you hear that I've decided to call it "Mega Bucket"."

Skids hid his face in his hands and shook, laughing.

"We're not- I'm absolutely serious - if it's gonna be a thing, we're not fragging _there_ ," he warned when his laughing ceased.

Getaway grinned at him:

"That's what the Rod Pod's for!" He patted the chair handle again. "Mega Bucket is all about leaving graffitis in hidden places."

Skids burst into laughter once again.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i'll eventually write every porn scenario with these two and post them into one multichapter fic. or maybe one day i'll start coming up with decent fic names, tag properly, etc. hey, a girl can dream.


End file.
